


Of wine

by DrowChancellor



Series: Talks of (eng) [1]
Category: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Academy, Brotherly Affection, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Mentor/Protégé, Out of Character, Routine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowChancellor/pseuds/DrowChancellor
Summary: And what was he doing in the impeccably arrogantly occupied territory? That's right, he was suffering. With such a feeling that someone in torture chambers would envy. And this victim of an academic fanaticism greatly interfered with the routine of mentor's activities. At least by occupying the entire working space.
Series: Talks of (eng) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978954
Kudos: 2





	Of wine

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Of wine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27008086) by [DrowChancellor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowChancellor/pseuds/DrowChancellor). 



Twirling the letter knife in his fingers, Dinin watched distantly at the faint reflections from a single lit candle on the metal. So sharp and yet almost useless. He turned the polished handle towards him, red eyes lazily glanced over the reflection. He definetely should cut the tips of his hair. At home he would never have been allowed to perform such a mockery on hairdressing traditions. The hair of a nobleman barely covering his shoulders? What are you talking about? Certainly, arguments that, demon, take it, it is difficult to grow braids to the waist, were not just rejected - they were not listened to. But he's not at home. Therefore, he definetely should cut the tips of his hair. Although something here still reminds of the House.

  
At the same table, his younger brother laid out his belongings, after all. He didn't take into account the sour notice that he might want to suffer somewhere in the common rooms, instead of the private quarters of the teacher. Stubbornly took the heart out of Dinin with pleading eyes, squeezed himself through the doorframe. And what was he doing in the impeccably arrogantly occupied territory? That's right, he was suffering. With such a feeling that someone in torture chambers would envy. And this victim of an academic fanaticism greatly interfered with the routine of mentor's activities. At least by occupying the entire working space. Among the rubble of scribbled and passively-aggressively crumpled sheets, parchments, fastened on a wing and a prayer, and heavy folios, it was impossible to make out the tabletops. How he even managed not to lose them on the way? He brought a good few in his hands.

  
With a sigh Dinin set aside the metal toothpick, locked graceful fingers, propping up his sharp chin. However, there was nothing to be amazed at, his youngest brother certainly doesn't want determination. Just like now, look how serious he is. Brows frowned, as if he intended to ignite the hated pieces of paper with a menacing look.

  
Authoritative almost always, but, it seems, not that evening, master studied the piles of parchment with obvious boredom. This one, apparently, from library, is worn out, librarian will again insist on immediate replacement after the return of this, of course, invaluable work to its shelf. Again to no avail. And the one under it looks more like an inhabitant of a personal collection. And that is a much more serious manifestation. Dinin let out a soundless breath, momentarily raising his eyes lined with straight eyelashes to the face warmly lit from only one side. To the thin, now even more pronounced bridge of the nose, a little sunken sweetface. Elder one intertwined fingers in a new way. A hastily embroidered notebook with a clearly familiar handwriting caught his eye, Dinin twisted his neck with interest.

  
"If I were you, I would not trust these calculations."

  
At the questioning and suspiciously empty look, he tapped his finger on the subject of doubt.

  
"This Relondar of yours was proving Lady Xalar as recently as yesterday that his personal anti-corruption technique is more effective than one that was developed over two hundred years ago. By the way, quite successfully. And expressively. The entire Academy have heard"

  
The elder smirked sarcastically, imagining how Mizzrim would sneer at the respected lady during the morning meal.

  
"So, at the very least, conclusions similar to his will put her into... not particularly desirable state. But the point is different. This theory, to put it mildly, is lame. On both legs. Chewed by a hook horror."

  
Drizzt glanced in disbelief from beneath the white strands that randomly obscured his view. How inappropriate.

  
"With all due respect, master, since when did you begin to understand the structure of protective spells?"

  
"Since time when I was taught to violate their integrity with weapons. Just like you are taught now, let me spot you," Dinin chuckled merrilly, "The furious defense of someone else's brainchild is unlikely to help you tomorrow," _heavy silence,_ "even backed up by arguments. And yet, what did you find here?"

  
The genuine despair on the younger Do'Urden's face could make even the sentry spiders feel compassionate. Extremely disgusting creatures, needless to say, who seemed to enjoy much more vicious than purely instinctive pleasure from the sufferings of prey.

  
"Understood, nothing more sane was found. Have you tried to consult a mentor?" The elder raised an eyebrow sympathetically.

  
'She’s crazy," Drizzt moaned with anguish, "She caught me in the corridors after supper, so that I could pass her something... At night! In the corridors! I didn't even understand what she needed!" And at once he went limp in the chair.

  
Stop. That makes a change. Although the youngsters themselves smirched the honour of the house regularly, Dinin was not going to salute this very honour to the mentor of the balor-forsaken subject.

  
"I will pretend that I didn't hear that," sharp look eye to eye, "but I completely agree with you.

  
Thinking for a second, the elder easily leaned his hands on a whole, storehouse of knowledge about mana shields, judging by its thickness, and got up.

  
"Come. Take this rubbish with you. The most important one," and Dinin leisurely went to the hall. He stopped at the door, not hearing footsteps following, "Well?"  
It seems that these wide eyes are beginning to annoy him. It was not lightning that struck him, why so much shock.

  
"What for? I'll leave, if I'm intruding, just give me..." and as if only now realizing the scale of the catastrophe, he looked around the table with a glance and his face fell.

  
"Because I don’t intend to hunch my back for hours in a row," Dinin snapped impatiently from the next room.

  
Still not understanding the reasons for the change of location, Drizzt nevertheless did not ask the next question. Quickly he picked up the most important books and a couple of scraps of parchment in case of sudden insights, and darted after his brother. He, in turn, was already stretched out on a moderately narrow canape, crossed his ankles at the cold brazier. An attribute that was not quite necessary personally for him, however, it was obligatory for the rooms of this floor. But that was not something that would be worth to complain about too much. After all, nights can be cold. Especially fueled by the explosion of something from the lower floors. They are cold uncomfortable often, it must be said.

  
The younger Do'Urden approached hesitantly. To the accompaniment of expressive silence, he settled down on the opposite edge of the couch, his legs tucked up. After some deliberation, he put the load on the free middle. Finally. It began to seem like he was bereaved of his beloved scimitar.

  
Taking the first textbook he came across with two fingers, Dinin turned a couple of pages with deliberate disgust.

  
"Now clarify the meaning of the whole song-and-dance."

  
Drizzt smiled faintly at his brother's expression and shifted to sit back on the pillow.

  
"It is necessary to research under what conditions the broken knots of weaving will lead to a significant outflow of strength from the caster. The most significant."

  
"And?"

  
"And that's all."

  
Leaning his head back on the carved back, Dinin feelingly cursed his life.

***

Again. Once again. Repeat every hour. What did he signed? The question "why?" stopped spinning in his head long before midnight. Remained just "for what?.." His younger brother had already lost the battle with drowsiness, at some point wrapped himself in a soft blanket so carefully forgotten on the back, and took the place of books. He also had to pull them out from under him so that his ribs would be intact in the morning.

  
Dinin decided he have had just about enough researches outside of his specialization. It was just time to hook up someone else instead. And a suitable candidate, most likely, wasn't sleeping. But it's fine, Argith will make room, he needs magician more tonight. Gathering his strength and parchments in a pile, the elder Do'Urden moved towards the upper floors.

***

After the third knock, Pharaun Mizzrim finally leaned out of the doorway. Leaned out like a disgruntled and wet beast. But there was nothing left to lose.

  
"What do you need?" The magician asked listlessly, blowing the wet strand off his face.

  
"I came to stand by the door. But I will very much appreciate if we talk inside," he rested on the joint next to the hand of the interlocutor and charmingly bared his teeth, forcing the owner of the rooms inside.

  
He discontentedly moved aside, letting the interlocutor in, and closed the door with a heavy bolt. Not an unnecessary precaution at all, as well as a couple of silencing spells.

  
A veil of sweet scent was barely noticeable in the spacious rooms. Dinin seemed to have disturbed the sacred time - the time to be convinced of Pharaun's own splendor. Fragrant substances poured into bowls at a whole system of mirrors were the hint. The swordsman rightly doubted that this was something of an alchemical purpose. At least, not everything. A deliberately polite cough distracted him from contemplating the faint duochromic tints.

  
"Now will you deign to tell me about the business that brought you to my abode?"

Trying not to touch the neatly flowing silk of the home mantle with his hands, Mizzrym got into the pose.

  
"Perhaps. I'm interested in spell structure," Interrupting the poisonous remark with a gesture, waved him off, "don't worry, protective ones. Quite by accident I remembered that you are an expert in breaking them, so I decided to make a visit."

  
It seems he managed to stun the mage. Pharaun even forgot to resent for a second.

  
"Preventing your question, I've also remembered you are an expert in drinking. I owe you one. After work, of course," Dinin drawled innocently.

  
"That's another matter," Mizzrim revived and bared his fangs in a friendly grin, "I hope you know my preferences, my friend. And we will immediately overcome your hitch, make yourself comfortable," he made an inviting wave towards the chair hidden under the discarded clothes.

  
"But I want you to answer me one question too: why are you suddenly interested in such a tame... thing?" the sorcerer asked over his shoulder, while clearing the space from numerous bottles and flasks.

  
"Leisure interest," the swordsman muttered with displeasure, gloomily dropping himself into a lavishly draped chair.

"  
"Leisure it is," Pharaun snorted in a businesslike manner, hastily wiping his hands smeared with the remnants of some fragrant and suspiciously floral rubbish, "then listen. First of all…"

  
And both men plunged into the analysis of the runic weaving.

Dinin came out in an extremely elated mood. Mizzrym fully earned his payment. Even considering that he kicked him out suspiciously quickly. In the heat of speech not devoid of self-admiration, Pharaun glanced at a miniature clocks - someone's gift from the Surface. Especially considering that he kicked him out quickly. It turned out that the prospect of getting some sleep was very pleasant.

  
The swordsman stretched his spine for a quiet click with delight. A short way to his own chambers - and even the collapsed Narbondel will not make him stick his head out before the start of his personal working day.

  
"Dinin, what a pleasant meeting!" Came a high-pitched voice from a side corridor. Of course. The only lacking detail in this fuss.

  
Small heels clicked inevitably cheerfully in his direction while Do'Urden tried his best not to grimace. Cold magic fires snatched an almost too defiant corset and long skirts of madder crepe from the gloom.

  
"If a meeting at such a late hour can be pleasant… Lady Xalar."

  
"Come on," his colleague pouted picturesquely, "aren't you glad to have the opportunity to finally chat with a colleague without... the fuss of work." she stretched her hip aside, tapping the flap of the light armour with her fingers.

  
"Certainly, I would be glad if I really were out of the vanity. You yourself know too well what freedom is at the end of the year."

  
"Of course, of course my dear, I understand," she nodded, frowning the graceful eyebrows, "oh, these students, right? No respect for someone else's time! In the end, everybody needs to rest sometimes..." she reached out with her shimmering with rings palm to Dinin's shoulder in a light shirt. How unfortunate is that swordsmen have dodging in their basic instincts.

  
"I totally agree, my lady. Already on my way to a well deserved rest." Another step aside, "And I would advise you to do the same, tomorrow we all have a long day. Dark night."

  
Bowing lightly, Dinin turned on his heels and walked slowly down the route. Unreasonably hoping that the brief courtesy has run out.

  
"I bet your brother will have to spend some time after classes with me?" Xalar grinned disgustingly in his back, winding a strand of low hair on a fragile finger.

  
"I bet. For a bottle of wine."

***

Tenacious fingers, digging into an imprudently exposed shoulder, insistently shook Drizzt Do'Urden out of the warm sleep.

  
"Get up, come on, ceiling bat. You have an hour and a half to rewrite in your own handwriting."

  
And the sheets, sealed with a sinewy palm for stability, were slammed against the chest of the student, who barely opened his eyes.

  
Blinking, shocked Drizzt shifted his eyes from the paper lost under ink to the impatient face of his elder brother. Back again. He pressed the sheets to himself, placing his own fingers over other's. But he could only formulate one thought at a time:

  
"Why ceiling?"

  
"Because I know of only two creatures who are able to sleep so serenely in the face of danger."

  
Taking pity on the apparently non-functional mind of the once again quiet relative, Dinin explained:

  
"Classes will start in two hours. Take care to eat, you again have a scheduled reprimands instead of breakfast today. Anything you'll find in the buffet is all yours. Now get up."

  
Ruthlessly shaking Drizzt out of the blanket, his brother wrapped himself in it. Squeezed out of bed by other's body, the younger spent a couple of moments of sitting on the floor to finally return to reality. He peered into the reflexively grasped papers. As the neat lines ceased to blur before his eyes, the searing heat of shame in half with glee flooded into Drizzt's face and neck. Turning around, he got up on his knees and tightly wrapped his arms around Dinin, nuzzled into brother's chest, into the scent of his skin, of body already buried in the warmth, scent so familiar from sleep.

  
"Thank you," it came out muffled because of the tight hug.

  
With a martyr's squeak "Are you gonna crush me?" Dinin ruffled the hair on the back of Drizzt's head.

  
"Forward at a trot, you have to be in time for the first class. Come to me later, you shoud tell me how it went."

  
Drizzt squeezed a little tighter one last time and got to his feet.

  
"And you?.."

  
"And I am going to sleep until the second class. Go already. And remember you better pass."

  
As Drizzt closed the heavy door behind him, he heard a quiet:

  
"Well, at least you've warmed up the sofa..."

**Author's Note:**

> So... I hope my translation is worthwhile. If it is and you want to check out some of my other (and future) works in English - let me now in the comments below <3 I should know if someone needs it and I didn’t just spare my time with it  
> Oh, and if you think that something here might be improved - feel free to pm me anytime


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